Talking Skin

So after being slow and screwed for an entire two weeks and having alphabetized all of my clothes and suffered from chronic psychosis and after counting the leaves on our roof and so on I haven’t been able to write something and yet still I started acting like a real adult which is a must in my age. I tend to forget that I am not living in my own reality I am living in the reality of the world so I should act like I am one of “them”.  As I am walking on my way work and amble down to the street of New York, oppss I mean Ayala, I have notice that it is a requirement to own a phone camera or else you’ll be kick out from the curve and people will give you a questioning face if they happen to find out that you don’t have phone camera or at least colored phone.  Everybody is hurling their cell phones up to my face and as if proving me a sign of success.  Sadly, this is the world I live in and I need to adopt, for me to be able cope up.  I need to think like them.  I was wondering perhaps being a chameleon is much easier since all you have to do is to change color then viola!  You’ll be one of them.  I know for sure that there is a need for me to set myself to the tedious task of sorting through hundreds of list of technical issues and complains and I need to read more journals for me not to left behind.  I need to open my ears with what’s going on and stop being an autistic that bangs head on the walls.

Mind Fuck.

Voice: “You need to think straight Selma.  Do a cost base analysis; weigh things out and choose what is important and throw away those insignificant one.  Focus; clean up that blurry mind and ask those brain cells to do their job.”

I don’t know why I have to write a journal about what’s going on in my life.  I don’t know why I have to archive my own life to live.  I don’t know what I have to tell the world those embarrassing events happened to my life even I know for sure no one is reading it.  But it felt right and through this at least I manage to release those so called personal demons, whereas I thought I vanquished it but it keeps on haunting me still.  I know I need to save all of my thoughts because I tend to forget almost everything.  Everything merely stays on my short term memory.  After sleeping I’ll forget all the things I have done or the things that was happened.

I still have this “catholic guilt” in me, what have you done?  Why did you choose that instead of the other one?   I can’t fight “it”.  It is like drug that consume you but will make you elated.  I feel the pain on my legs but I’m still craving for it. Two bickering voices … Another pimple pops out on my face.